


I've Wanted You for so Very Long

by hayj



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Timelines, F/M, Post-Blackout (Revolution)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-05 18:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayj/pseuds/hayj
Summary: Rachel, who was inadvertently behind the blackout, has managed to create enough amplifiers and pendants to power most of Philly. While experimenting with the Nano at the old power plant outside of town, something goes wrong, and suddenly, Charlie Matheson-Monroe is faced with a version of her husband who is responsible for the devastation of their home, while the Charlie Matheson in Whilloughby, Texas is dealing with a President Monroe that has power, a wife and a child (whom he desperately wants to return to).Will our reluctant hero want to return to Texas? Or instead, will he choose to stay.





	1. Whilloughby

**Author's Note:**

> So, as it turns out, me deciding not to write Revo fanfic anymore threw Romeo and I into a bit of a tailspin and we both Panicked. Big Time. :D At the time I was re-reading a time travel fic that was brilliant till about the 10th chapter at which point I was asking WTF? But out of my disappointment in that story this plot bunny latched on and wouldn't let go.

Life doesn't give you hoops to jump through  
It gives you tireless roads to cross  
This sadness came over me  
So in love, so at a loss  
I've wanted you  
So very long.

 

 

Charlotte Matheson stood in front of her grandfather's kitchen window, looking out over the dry, dusty road that led into town, holding a mug of tea in her hand, lost in thought.  

 

She and Bass had been home from the war for a little over a month, and she was just as lost now as she was then. Every time someone asked her about her future, she avoided the conversation altogether.

 

All she knew how to do was fight, but there didn’t seem to be much use for that anymore, and where once Miles would be the person she confided in, Bass had become the only person she was able to bring herself to talk to about it. It seemed as though he was the only one who understood her anymore.

 

He had been working with the county sheriff at Blanchard’s request, and, on the surface, appeared to be settling in. But, Charlie knew he was feeling just as lost as she was.

 

They spent most nights at his place, sometimes sitting shoulder to shoulder drinking in companionable silence, and other times sitting up all night talking about their hopes and dreams and fears. Sometimes, they would do neither, and those were the mornings Charlie would wake warm and sated in his bed.  

 

Tonight, though, Miles had asked Bass to come by Gene’s after work.

 

The two of them were to finally be let in on whatever her mother and Aaron had been up to day in and day out, since before their return, in the newly built metal and wood outbuilding next to the barn, as if it were some super secret, military operation.

 

Lifting the mug to her mouth, Charlie realized she had been standing there so long her tea had gone cold. Not only had her tea gone cold, but it also looked like a storm was blowing in. The wind had picked up and the sky had turned dark with a greenish tinge to it.

 

Setting her mug down next to the sink, Charlie made her way out of the house and onto the back porch. From there, she could see Aaron and her mother rushing around inside of their workshop, green, glowing arcs of light flickering from one piece of equipment to the next.

 

Looking between the sky and the workshop, Charlie suddenly had a bad feeling. Rushing across the yard, it felt as though the wind was chasing her, ripping the door to the workshop out of her hands.

 

“Mom! What’s going on?” she cried out as the wind began to howl around them.

 

“I’m not sure!” Rachel shouted back, attempting to be heard over the sound.

 

She and Aaron moved from station to station, nearly tripping over each other, speaking words that Charlie didn’t understand.

 

Poking her head out the door, Charlie watched Miles making his way over from the barn just as a bolt of lightning struck nearby.

 

Letting out a yelp as the earth moved beneath her feet, Charlie reached for him the second he came through the door.

 

“Rachel! Whatever it is you’re doing, stop!” Miles yelled as Charlie’s eyes went wide. Turning, he saw Bass, pushing out Gene’s back door, and beginning to dart towards them.

 

As Miles shouted for him to go back into the house, Charlie watched as the storm continued to grow in strength.

 

Switching her gaze from the sky back towards Bass, Charlie lost  sight of him when a bolt of lightening blinded her.

 

And just like that, the storm was over as quickly as it had started.

 

“Oh my God!” she gasped when the spots disappeared from her vision.

 

Running across the yard, she dropped to her knees beside Bass’ prone body. “Bass! Bass, can you hear me?” she asked frantically, her hands searching for an injury.

 

“Is he alright?” Miles inquired, looking down from where he stood while peering over Charlie’s shoulder.

 

“There’s no blood, but he’s got one hell of a goose egg,” she replied, running her hands over his extremities in case there was an injury they couldn’t see, causing Miles to frown.

 

“Charlie, look at him,” Miles urged, his eyes narrowing. “Something’s not right.”

 

“What?” she asked in confusion, looking up towards Miles, only to be distracted by a moan and her name.

 

Turning back towards Bass, Charlie reached out to stroke his cheek, only to wrench her hand away at the last moment. “Yeah, it’s me. How do you feel?”

 

“I’m fine. Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asked, reaching out to grab her hand.

 

Bringing her wrist with the brand up to his mouth, he pressed a wet, open mouthed kiss against it, causing Charlie’s eyes to go wide. The only time Bass ever did that was when they were in the privacy of his bedroom. Their relationship - whatever it was at this point (they hadn’t actually put a label on it), was not something they’d decided to put on display just yet.  But this just proved that Miles was right.

 

Something was definitely wrong here. For one thing, Bass was clean shaven - or at least, mostly clean shaven; he still had a bit of stubble above his lip and on his chin and jawline. In addition to that, Charlie didn’t recognize the clothing he was now wearing. They were completely different from the ones he was wearing just moments ago. Dark blue pants and low boots with a high shine, topped off with a soft, off-white, long sleeved shirt, completely unsuited for the Texas heat.

 

“Hey, quit slobbering all over my niece, Dickhead!” Miles grouched as he kicked Bass’ booted foot.

 

Looking in the direction of a man whose voice he hasn’t heard in years, Bass suddenly paled, a low pitched whine clawing its way out of his throat as he scrambled to his feet, moving away from Miles.

 

Charlie remained where she was, unsure of what to do as she watched the man she considered her partner behave like a crazed stranger.

 

When his stormy eyes flicked towards her once again, she could see both anger and fear battling for dominance.

 

“Charlotte, come here! Get behind me!” he bellowed from where he stood, now several feet away.

 

Brows lifting in surprise at this turn of events, Charlie climbed to her feet and glanced at Miles with a near imperceptible shrug before making her way to Bass’ side.  

 

“Bass what’s wrong?” she asked calmly as he grabbed ahold of her and pulled her behind him.

 

“What do you mean, what’s wrong?” he snapped. “Him!” he pointed at Miles. “That’s not Miles. Miles is dead! Why isn’t Jeremy here? And just where the fuck is here?” he demanded, his breathing becoming faster.

 

“Charlie, why don’t you get your mom?” Miles suggested as he and Bass continued to stare each other down.

 

“No!” Bass barked in his most authoritative voice, one that Miles hadn’t heard in a very long time. “She stays here with me. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not going to work.”

 

“Bass,” Charlie said lowly, placing her palm on his shoulder blade. “See that building over there? That’s where I’m going. I’ll be right back, okay?”

 

Pursing his lips, knowing that he couldn’t stop her once her mind was made up, Bass pulled the gun out of his holster and nodded, causing Charlie to exhale slowly.

 

When did he start carrying a gun again, she wondered.

 

Moving quickly towards the workshop, Charlie came to a stop near the entrance. “You need to come quick. Something’s happened.”

 

Looking at one another, Rachel and Aaron moved towards the door, following Charlie out into the yard.

 

As soon as Bass saw them, he rushed over.  “Aaron!” he exclaimed, before embracing Rachel, who stood stiffly in his arms. “Are you alright? Has anyone hurt you?” he asked in genuine concern as he grasped her gently by the arms.

 

“Mom’s fine,” Charlie said, filling in the awkward silence, drawing his attention back towards her.

 

With a shaky exhale, he let go of Rachel and pulled Charlie into his arms, cupping her face as he leaned in to gently kiss her.

 

Shocked at first, she was easily pulled into the kiss, her hands fisting the soft weave of his shirt, breathless when he finally released her.

 

“Where’s Hayes, is he alright?” Bass asked, looking down at her.

 

Charlie panicked for a moment, not having a clue who he was talking about. Looking over his shoulder, she noticed Miles rolling his fingers one over the other as he spoke quietly to Rachel and Aaron.

 

With a nod in understanding, she met Bass’ eyes. “The last I checked, he was fine,” she replied, bluffing her way through the conversation while hoping it would be enough to pacify him. “Why don’t we go inside? You hit your head pretty hard and I want to make sure you’re alright.”

 

“No! Not yet!” Bass balked, pointing towards Miles. “That imposter needs to be locked up until we can find out who sent him!”

 

Charlie softened her voice. “It’s alright, Bass. He’s supposed to be here. I’ll explain it all to you as soon as we’re inside, okay?”

 

Swaying on his feet, Bass blinked once, then twice, before collapsing to the ground.

 

“Miles!” Charlie yelled.

 

“Shit!” Miles exclaimed, running to her side. “Let’s get him inside and have Gene take a look at him.”

 

“What’s going on, Miles?” Charlie asked, worry lacing her voice, as Miles got Bass over his shoulder.

 

“Your mom and Aaron are going to have to explain, Charlie. I barely understand it myself.”

 

“Of course you don’t,” she muttered with a sigh, leading the way to the house.

 

Opening the door for him, she followed closely behind as Miles made his way to the sun room that Gene used as an exam room.

 

When Gene came bustling into the room with Rachel and Aaron following, Charlie turned on them, pushing her finger in Aaron’s chest. “What did you do?” she hissed.

 

“Uh…uh…” Aaron stuttered, pushing his glasses up on his nose before taking a step away from the girl he’d known for years. In all honesty, she scared the absolute crap out of him these days. “Maybe your mother should explain,” he said, pulling Rachel in front of him.

 

Charlie turned her glare on her mother. “Well? What did you do this time?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Why don’t we go in the living room and get out of Dad’s way.”

 

Looking over her shoulder at Miles, Charlie turned back towards her mother with a curt nod.

 

Taking a seat on the couch beside Miles, Charlie watched as her mother and Aaron communicated with a series of hand gestures and head tilts, much like she and Bass, and if she weren’t so confused and pissed off, she’d probably find it amusing as hell.

 

Finally, Rachel began to speak. “Aaron and I have been experimenting with the Nano, trying to determine if there’s any way to go back in time in order to stop the blackout from ever happening.”

 

Leaning back against the couch, Charlie rubbed at her temples. “Time travel?” she asked skeptically, her only knowledge of the subject being what Aaron had told her.

 

“It’s not as far-fetched as you might think, Charlie,” Rachel defended, straightening her back.

 

“Well, I hate to tell you, Rachel, but that is not a thirty-year-old Sebastian Monroe in that room,” Charlie snapped back, jumping to her feet. “That, is someone else entirely.”

 

“You’re right,” Aaron agreed, stepping forward to intervene.

 

“What do you mean, I’m right?” Charlie asked in confusion as Miles pulled her back down beside him.

 

“From what I saw before the equipment fritzed out, we didn’t reach a different time, we reached a different timeline.”

 

“Say what now?” Miles asked, his brows shooting up.

 

Rachel pursed her lips. “Think about it, Miles. He was truly surprised to see you, was asking for Jeremy and seems to think he, Aaron and I are all fast friends. And then there was his reaction to Charlie,” she said curtly, eyes flashing to her daughter.

 

Miles pushed to his feet. “So, if that’s someone else’s Bass, where the hell is ours?”

 

“I can only assume that _your_ Bass is wherever _this_ Bass came from,” she replied.

 

“Fuck me,” Miles muttered, running a hand through his hair before stomping off to the kitchen.

 

Standing, Charlie came toe to toe with her mother. “I don’t care what the two of you have to do or how long it takes, you _will_ bring our Bass back,” she growled. Turning on her heel, she stomped back into the exam room where her grandfather still was.

 

“Wow. Who knew they’d be so upset?” Aaron spouted dryly, looking over at Rachel with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll go into town and see what kind of equipment there's left to scavenge.”

 

“I’ll come with you,” Rachel sighed. “It’ll give them time to calm down.”

 

“Charlie and Miles? Calm down? Yeah, okay,” Aaron snorted before grabbing his backpack and heading out the front door.   


	2. Philadelphia

 

Charlotte Matheson-Monroe was lying in her bed at Independence Hall, half-asleep, a book lightly clutched in her hand as her eyes began to droop close. She had given up waiting on her husband, who had begged a few more hours in his office after helping put their son to bed.

 

Her mother hadn’t come home from the power plant on the outskirts of town, either, so the upstairs was particularly quiet this evening, leaving her feeling a bit melancholy.

 

She had wandered down to her parents’ suite earlier, slipping into her father's private study. Running her fingers over his books, she finally settled on his copy of “The Art of War.” The creased spine, along with the sloppy notes written in his illegible scrawl, brought a smile to her face.

 

There wasn’t a day that she didn’t still think about him. His name alone had been enough to elicit fear in the hearts of their enemies, but to her, he was just Daddy.

 

To this day, she still refused to enter the city of Baltimore.

 

The book had finally slipped out of her hand when a clap of thunder rattled the entire building, waking both her and her son, if the cries coming from his room were any indication.  

 

Throwing back the covers, she padded across the hall, making her way to the wailing boy. He’d managed to pull himself up on the side of his crib, his cries growing in strength.

 

“What’s the matter little one?” she cooed, lifting him up and cuddling him close.

 

Making her way to the window across the room, she sucked in a breath at the sight before her. The city was dotted with lights as it should have been, but hanging above it all, like a shroud, was a haze of green that appeared to be moving.

 

When a bolt of lightning struck near the Hall, Charlie screamed, more in surprise than fear, stumbling backwards as she attempted not to fall with her son in her arms.

 

A guard appeared next to her in less than a moment, steadying her, even as they both turned their heads away from the window where the storm seemed to be gaining power.

 

“Is the President still in his office?” Charlie asked the guard, still a bit shaken.

 

“As far as I know, Ma’am.”

 

Charlie nodded, looking down at her son, who had calmed down now that he was in his mother's arms. “Thank you, I think I’ll join him.”

 

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll see you down,” the guard replied, wincing when another lightning bolt struck nearby, lighting the room as if it were daytime.

 

Grabbing her son’s blanket, Charlie threw it over him as they moved out into the hall.

 

They were on the stairs when the house suddenly began to shake and the light fixtures exploded and sparked. Pushing them down on the stairs, the guard hovered over Charlie and the baby, protecting them from flying glass and electrical sparks.

 

When things finally settled, the guard lifted his head. “Are you alright?” he asked, helping Charlie to her feet, watching as she checked her son for any injuries.

 

“Yes, I think so,” she finally answered, watching as the guards around the Hall began to light candles, placing them inside the candle sconces that still remained on the walls.

 

The guard kept a hand on her elbow as they continued down the stairs, making their way to Bass’ office.

 

Pushing opening the door without knocking, Charlie paused in the pitch darkness, before calling frantically for the guards to bring candles, afraid that her husband was lying unconscious on the floor.  

 

After searching the room, he was nowhere to be found.

 

Questioning the guards, who had no clue what had happened to her husband, Charlie marched back towards the stairs, barking out orders that her husband, the Vice President, and her mother were to be found by the time she returned.

 

The guards scrambled to do her bidding.

 

Turning her son over to his nanny, Charlie returned to her room, where the maids had left oil lamps burning. Pulling off her robe and gown, she searched for a pair of jeans and her boots, tugging them on before pulling out one of Bass’ long-sleeved undershirts. Burying her face in the fabric, she paused to take a deep breath, before slipping it over her head and buckling her holster around her hips.

 

Returning to her husband’s office, she discovered General Baker behind Bass’ desk. Rushing forward, Charlie threw her arms around him. Jeremy was her father’s and Bass’ closest friend, taking over the position of Vice President when her father died.

 

“Any word yet?” she asked him, pulling away to look at the paperwork on Bass’ desk.

 

“No,” Jeremy shook his head. “And I just don’t get it. How could he have just disappeared into thin air?”

 

“I don’t know,” Charlie replied, her voice breaking as she picked up a map of the city. Carrying it over to the large conference table, she rolled it out, tossing weights on each corner.  “Show me where we have people looking.”

 

They’d been at it for over an hour, placing pieces on the map as squads reported in, marking off yet another section where her husband had not been found.

 

Charlie knew it was still early and she shouldn’t panic (not that she would; Mathesons weren’t the panicking types), but she had this feeling in her gut that things weren’t going to end well.

 

Jeremy had his hand on her shoulder, offering what comfort he could, when they heard the outer doors burst open, followed by commotion in the hall.

 

When the office doors swung open, Jeremy and Charlie both drew their guns in the blink of an eye, neither moving as a dirty, disheveled, bearded Bass dragged Rachel through the door, a sword at her throat.

 

“Jeremy,” Charlie hissed, looking over to her friend, hoping that he saw the same thing she did.

 

“Yeah,” is all he said, meeting her eyes briefly, before turning back towards the man holding Rachel at knife point.

 

“Jeremy?” Bass said, rocking on his heels. “How is this possible? I killed you,” he whispered brokenly, running his fingers through his unkempt hair before pulling Rachel closer to him.

 

“Who are you?” Charlie demanded as she slowly made her way around the table, gun still pointed at the grungy replica of her husband. There was no way her husband would ever be caught dead in the stretched out tee-shirt and soiled over-shirt that this man was wearing.

 

“Charlotte, you know who I am,” he ground out, his eyes begging her for something, but she wasn’t sure what. All she knew is that they were filled with pain.

 

Looking back over at Jeremy, she made a decision and hoped that the Vice President would play along.

 

Putting her gun away slowly, Charlie held her hands out towards Bass. “Yes, I do. I do know you. So, please, let my mother go,” she pleaded. “Let Rachel go and we’ll go upstairs and get you cleaned up.”

 

“Show me your wrist,” he demanded, his eyes becoming unfocused as his breathing quickened.

 

Charlie tilted her head, a brow arching in surprise. Bass - her Bass - was the only other person who knew that she was branded.

 

“Look,” she said softly, unfastening the leather cuff she wore, showing him her brand. “It’s me.”

 

At that, he immediately released Rachel, pushing her towards Jeremy as he fell to his knees, a hand going to his head. Charlie dropped down with him.

 

“What’s happening to me?” he asked, looking up at her beseechingly.

 

“It’s okay. I’m here now,” she assured him, catching him before he hit the floor.

 

“Jeremy! Help me!” Charlie cried out, cradling the unconscious man in her arms.

 

“But, Charlie…”

 

“Jeremy, just do it!” she demanded, helping the blond lift the shorter man over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Come along, Mother. I have a feeling you have some explaining to do.”

 

“Lucy, you got some s’plainin to do,” Jeremy singsonged, earning a glare from Rachel as they trudged up the stairs together.

 

Requesting that a dinner tray be sent to her suite, Charlie followed Jeremy and her mother up the stairs.

 

Closing her bedroom door behind her, Charlie watched as Jeremy dumped the man onto the settee with her mother’s help, and even though she already knew, she had to make sure.

 

Walking over to the man, Charlie pulled up his left sleeve. In the spot where there should have been a curved M tattoo, there was nothing but scarred flesh.

 

Backing away from him, Charlie looked at Rachel. “Who the hell is this?”

 

Rachel stood behind the couch wringing her hands as she looked at her daughter and her late husband’s best friend. “My best guess is that he’s Bass....just not _our_ Bass.”

 

Charlie pursed her lips. “Care to elaborate?”

 

“I was doing some experiments and I think it upset the Nano.”

 

“What kind of experiments?” Charlie asked as she studied the man who looked like a homeless version of her husband.

 

“Nothing that you would understand,” Rachel snapped and Charlie had to nod her head in agreement. There was very little she understood about the time before, when electricity was available to everyone. Now, it was a commodity and people had to pay for the privilege of having it.

 

“So now what?” Jeremy asked as each woman fell quiet. “How do we get rid of this Bass and get ours back?”

 

“I don’t know that we can,” Rachel replied, straightening her back as she prepared for her daughter’s wrath.

 

Charlie’s head shot up. “What do you mean you don’t know if we can? I don’t care if it’s the last thing you do, you will get my husband back!” she roared, taking a step forward just as there was a knock at the door.

 

Jeremy looked at her reproachfully, before opening the door, admitting the maid that had a loaded down tray.

 

Setting it on the table near the fireplace, the woman was smart enough to scurry away.

 

Jeremy waited until the door closed before speaking again. “Let’s just everybody get some sleep and we’ll regroup tomorrow. Charlie, I’ll cancel all of your and Bass’ appointments for the next few days and take over until we can figure out what to do. What do you want to do with him?”

 

“Leave him here. From what he said, he knows and trusts me,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “But take his weapons with you,” she hastily added to placate the look on Jeremy’s face; it was the same look that her father had often given her when she was doing something he thought was particularly stupid.

 

Jeremy nodded in relief and helped her slip the sword belt off the man, taking it and her mother with him as he exited the room.


	3. Whilloughby

“How is he?” Charlie asked her grandpa as she came to stand beside Bass and looked down at him.

 

“Other than that goose egg, he seems to be fine. It’s probably just a mild concussion. What happened, anyway?”

 

“Oh, just Mom and Aaron, playing with their toys,” she snarked.

 

“Uh huh. Well, if you want to sit with him, I’ll go start on dinner.”

 

“Thanks, Grandpa,” Charlie replied, giving him a smile.

* * *

Charlie was still in her seat next to the bed when Miles returned, carrying two bowls. Handing her one, he took a seat on the other side of the bed. They ate in silence, both watching the unconscious man.

 

“What are you thinking?” Miles finally asked, setting his bowl in his lap.

 

“We’re married,” Charlie blurted out.

 

“Excuse me?” Miles panicked, looking between her and his best friend.

 

“Not me and Bass. This Bass and that Charlie,” she explained, a pained expression flitting across her face.

 

“How do you know?” Miles asked with a relieved sigh, relaxing back into his seat.

 

Charlie lifted up his hand, revealing a wedding band. “They also have a child together.”

 

Miles frowned. “That’s an awful lot of assumptions.”  

 

“This was in his pocket.” Pulling a photograph out from just beneath her leg, she handed it to her uncle.

 

Running a hand through his hair, Miles looked down at a woman who was his niece’s twin, holding an infant. “God, I hate this X-files bullshit,” he muttered, passing it back to her.  “I hate to say it, kid, but it looks like the heavy lifting is going to fall on you this time.”

 

Charlie nodded. “I figured. I want Aaron here with me when he wakes. Hopefully he can explain it to him in a way that he can understand.”

 

“That or kill him when he figures out he may not see his child again, one of the two.”

 

“This Bass isn’t like that,” Charlie replied, looking over at her uncle. “This Bass… he hasn’t gone through what ours has.”

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“I just can.”

 

Picking up his bowl, Miles circled around the bed and took her bowl as well before laying a hand on her shoulder. “Just be careful, Charlie. I don’t want to see you get hurt. By either of them.”

 

Charlie nodded, running her finger over the small photo in her hand. She couldn’t imagine Bass carrying around a photograph of her and a child. But there were times - the way he looked at her, almost reverently - that she could imagine what it would be like to be loved by Sebastian Monroe.

* * *

 

By the time he finally came to, everyone had already gone to bed, except Aaron, who was in the kitchen working on something Charlie knew she’d never understand, so she didn’t bother to ask.

 

“Where am I?” Bass asked with a grimace.

 

Charlie reached out, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “You’re safe. I promise.”

 

Bass met her eyes before searching her face. “You’re not my Charlotte, are you?” he asked sadly.

 

“No. I’m not.” Charlie replied softly with a shake of her head.  

* * *

 

Leading him into the kitchen, Charlie waved him to a seat at the table.

 

“Aaron,” Bass said warily.

 

“That will never not be weird,” Aaron said, looking up from where he was working.

 

“What?” Bass asked as Charlie sat a bowl of stew and a plate of buttered bread in front of him.

 

Aaron, pushed his glasses up his nose. “You, calling me Aaron.”

 

“I’m sorry. You just remind me of someone by that name.”

 

Charlie smoothed a hand over Bass’ shoulder as she sat a glass of water down beside his bowl, urging him to eat.

 

“Thank you for sharing your food with me,” Bass said a few minutes later, pushing his empty bowl away.

 

“You’re welcome,” Charlie replied with a small smile, taking the dirty dishes over to the sink before pulling out a bottle and three glasses. She poured them each a drink and passed them out. “I don’t even know where to begin,” she said as they each took a sip of their drink, eyeing each other hesitantly.

 

Bass gave a nosy exhale. “My mother in law, Rachel, and her business partner, Aaron, had been experimenting with something they called nano-technology. It was thanks to them that we had power in the Republic. I can only assume that something went wrong.”

“You-you know about the Nano?” Aaron asked, his head wobbling around on his neck as he looked over at Charlie.

 

“Yes. Should I not?”

 

“It’s fine. It’s just that there is no power here and people think that the nano is nothing more than science fiction,” Charlie explained.

 

“You said that Rachel and I were experimenting with them. Do you know what kind of experiments?”

 

“Not really. Their workshop was out at the old power plant, so I didn’t see them much. For the past few weeks, the only thing Charlie and I could get out of them when we did see them, was that they were trying to fix the mistake that had caused us to lose power in the first place.”

 

“Could they have been trying to do the same thing you and mom were?” Charlie asked, looking over at Aaron.

 

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Aaron replied, bringing his hand up to his mouth. “Somehow we both tuned into the same frequency, so to speak, and this was the result. Okay, okay, this just might be doable,” he said, pushing to his feet. “I need to go home, I have some calculations to make.”

 

“Do you want me to walk you?” Charlie asked. “It’s late.”

 

“No, no, I’m good. Tell Rachel to come find me in the morning. Night!” he called out distractedly, pushing through the front door and heading towards home.

“I’m still not sure I understand,” Bass said from the counter where he was pouring himself another glass.

 

“I know I don’t,” Charlie sighed, holding out her glass for a refill. “Let’s go get comfortable.”

 

Making their way to the living room, they took a seat on opposite ends of the couch.

 

“My mom and Aaron were in their workshop tonight. They told me afterwards that they were attempting to find a way to go back in time so they could stop the blackout from happening in the first place. At some point, a storm blew up. Wind, thunder, lightning. Miles and I had already reached them when we realized Bass was trying to reach us. But before he could…”

 

“Zap,” Bass finished for her as he finished off his drink. “So, what you and Aaron are suggesting is that somehow there are alternate timelines, and myself and the Bass from wherever this is traded places.”

 

“Actually, I didn’t suggest anything because I don’t know what the hell happened. I just know that you aren’t my Bass.” Charlie sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you must miss them terribly.”

 

Bass swallowed thickly, meeting her eyes. “Will he protect them?”

 

Charlie nodded without hesitation. “With his life.”

* * *

“I can sleep on the couch, really,” Bass said, eyeing the twin beds in the room that Charlie had led him to.

 

“Look, I can’t sleep in both beds and there’s no sense in you being uncomfortable, and it’s not like we’ve never slept together.”

 

At that comment, Bass’ head popped up in alarm.

 

Charlie groaned. “Poor choice of words, sorry,” she said, turning her back to him as she pulled her shirt over her head.

 

Spinning around, Bass stood silently, the sound of Charlie changing her clothes being the only noticeable sound in the room.

 

“Here are some of Miles’ old clothes that you can sleep in. Bass uses them when he’s stuck here for the night.”

 

Turning back around at the sound of her voice, Bass took the clothes that was she holding out for him.

 

“There’s a bathroom across the hall if you’re not comfortable changing in front of me,” she said, turning back to her dresser and picking up the hairbrush that sat on its surface.

 

Bass hesitated for only a moment before stripping down and changing clothes. Charlie kept her back turned for a few extra moments, giving him time to fold his clothing and turn the blankets on his bed back.

 

Turning down the oil lamp, Charlie climbed in bed and silently stared at the ceiling for a long while.

 

“What’s she like?” she eventually asked, not even sure if he was still awake.

 

He knew exactly whom she was asking about, so he decided there was no use in pretending.

 

“She’s the love of my life,” he spoke softly into the silence. “She’s soft and kind and stubborn to a fault,” he chuckled. “She never hesitates to tell me what she thinks. I haven’t made one decision regarding the Republic that she hasn’t been privy to. I thought the day we married was the happiest day of my life, but it wasn’t until we had Hayes that I knew what true happiness was. As she held my son in her arms, I saw my past, my present, and my future.”

 

He went silent after that and from the heaviness of his breathing, Charlie knew he was trying to get his emotions under control, so she stayed quiet, Rolling over to her side, she pulled out a dirty, old bandana from under her pillow, worrying it between her fingers as she inhaled the fading scent.

* * *

 

When Bass woke the next morning, the bed beside him was empty and neatly made. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he slid his legs over the edge of the bed, dragging himself into a sitting position. Finally pushing himself to his feet, he made his bed and changed his clothes, folding his night clothes neatly and laying them at the foot of the bed.

 

The house was quiet as he made his way down the stairs and found his way to the kitchen.

 

Sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee, was Miles.

 

“Hey, Bass,” he said tiredly. “Coffee?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Bass replied, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.

 

Miles cracked a smile when Bass took a drink and then grimaced, forcing himself to swallow.

 

“God, that’s…”

 

“Horrible? Vile? Not even deserving of the name coffee?” Miles asked with a snort. Pulling a flask out of his hip pocket, he unscrewed the lid and poured a finger of liquid into the coffee cup.

 

“Does it help?” Bass asked skeptically.

 

“No,” Miles replied with a shake of his head. “But after a while, you just don’t care.”

 

Bass chuckled, taking another drink and managing to keep a straight face this time. “Where’s Charlie?”

 

“Left right after sunup to go hunting. Said she needed to clear her head. She’ll take you over to your place after lunch.” Fiddling with his coffee cup, Miles finally managed to ask what he’d been dying to know. “So, what happened to me?”

 

Bass swallowed his coffee, then set the mug back on the table. He stared at the man in front of him for a moment, a dull ache in his heart causing him to hesitate for a bit. But doing his best to ignore the feeling, he proceeded to answer the question. “The Battle of Baltimore. You were trying to get some kids out.”

 

Miles tilted his head. “Out of a building that the Morton gang set on fire so we wouldn’t know what they had been doing.”

 

Bass nodded his head in acknowledgment.  “After that night, I was known as the Butcher of Baltimore.”

 

Miles nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. “Jeremy?”

 

“Was a fucking Godsend. Took over as Vice-President and held the rest of us together.”

 

“What about Shelly?”

 

“Who?”

 

Miles shut his eyes.

 

Bass frowned. “Is that someone important?”

 

Miles opened his eyes. “No. Charlie says that you’re married.”

 

Before Bass could reply, the screen door opened, and Rachel and Aaron came walking through the house, stopping in the doorway.

 

Bass pushed to his feet. “Rachel.”

 

Ignoring him, she turned to Miles. “We’ll be out back. I just wanted to let you know I was home.”

 

Nodding to Aaron, who nodded back before hurrying after the woman, Bass returned to his seat. “What did I do?”

 

“I’m not sure there’s enough alcohol in this house to answer that question,” Miles replied with a frown.


	4. Philadelphia

Looking down at the man lying in front of her, Charlie sighed and began tugging off his boots, placing them off to the side. Next, she removed his threadbare socks. Reaching for his pants, she had them unzipped when two hands reached out, wrapping tightly around her wrists. 

 

Lifting her eyes, she looked into a pair that were equally as blue as her own. “You’re safe here. I give you my word.'

 

“And just where exactly is here?” he asked, never taking his eyes off of her.

 

“Do you not recognize your own bedroom?”

 

Tightening his grip on her, he let his eyes dart around the room. Sucking in a breath through his clenched teeth, he turned his gaze back towards her. “This is my bedroom in Philadelphia, but that’s not possible.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because Philadelphia is gone. It was blown off the map over a year ago. All of the people there are dead. Cooked in their own skins.”

 

Charlie tilted her head, her eyes searching his face. “And you think you’re to blame.”

 

“You didn’t answer my question. Where. Am. I?”

 

“You are in the bedroom that I share with my husband at Independence Hall in Philadelphia.”

 

Releasing her hands, Bass scooted away from her like she was on fire.

 

Straightening, Charlie remained where she was, making no sudden movements.  “There’s the window. Look for yourself.”

 

Getting to his feet, Bass edged towards the window, pushing back the curtain. Looking outside, tears came to his eyes. “How is this possible?” he breathed.

 

“Sebastian,” Charlie said softly - almost reverently, Bass thought as he turned back towards her.

 

“I know that you have questions. I do as well. But why don’t you eat and bathe first?” she suggested, waving towards the tray sitting in front of the fireplace. “You look half starved,” she commented with a half sob, taking half a step forward, before catching herself.

 

Bass warily made his way towards the covered tray across the room, his mouth already watering from the smell.  

 

Taking a seat at the table, he tore into a sandwich, moaning at the taste of the roasted chicken breast nestled between two slices of thick bread, which were slathered in homemade mayonnaise and topped off with fresh tomatoes and lettuce, never taking his eyes from the woman who looked like Charlie, but wasn’t. 

 

His Charlie had never looked at him the way this woman was looking at him now. Suddenly uncomfortable, he looked down, resisting the urge to lick his plate, just because he could; he then popped a wedge of sliced cheese into his mouth.

 

“Better?” she asked from where she perched on the settee.

 

“Yes, thank you.”

 

Charlie smiled with a nod. “The bathroom is just through there. There should still be plenty of hot water in the tanks and if you’d feel more comfortable, you have a few pairs of pajama pants in your armoire,” she explained, her face suddenly blushing as she looks at her feet.

 

Bass found it absolutely adorable when he realized what she was implying. Before, when he was President, he never bothered with wearing clothes to bed. There were times he had to be up and ready to go at a moment’s notice, and wearing clothes that he’d only have to remove seemed like a waste of time in his opinion.

 

“I’ll just gather a few of my things and leave you to it,” she said, moving to an armoire on the opposite wall from his. She gathered a froth of material hanging over the open door that he wasn’t really sure the purpose of and a hair brush before moving towards the door, her hand on the knob. “I’ll be in Hayes’ room just right across the hall if you need anything.”

 

Bass was pretty sure he heard a gut-wrenching sob as soon as she shut the door, but he remained where he was.

 

He moved to the armoire nearest him and opened a few drawers, pulling out a clean pair of boxers and pajamas as he quickly rifled through the rest of the belongings. 

 

His hand briefly lingered on a Militia uniform before he closed the doors gently. He wandered around the room, looking at the photos on the mantle. Other than at Gene’s, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw an honest to God photograph. 

 

There was one of him and Miles and Jeremy laughing at something, then there was a photo of Miles, Rachel and a teenage Charlie, wrapped up in Miles’ arms. The next photo was larger than all the others and was the image of a cherubic baby, eyes closed in slumber, supported by the arms of two people. A man and a woman. The child’s parents, he surmised, before his gaze traveled to the last picture.  He slowly walked over and stood in front of it.

 

It was Charlie and him, posing for a portrait that had gone wrong, but not in a bad way. Bass had her hand pulled to his mouth and Charlie’s hand was cupping the cheek away from the camera. They were both smiling softly at each other, like they had a secret that only the two of them knew. 

 

His breath caught in his chest as he stared. 

 

The only person he’d ever looked at like that was Shelly. 

 

He turned away quickly, feeling almost as if he was betraying not just Shelly, but the Charlie he’d left back in Willoughby as well.

 

Wandering over to the armoire the other Charlie had been standing at earlier, Bass poked inside a few drawers and opened up the jewelry box on top. It was laden with bling but other mementos as well. There were his and Miles’ dog tags, a tiny intertwined ring of silver and gold, a few dried flowers and an ornate diamond charm in the form of the Republic M. 

 

Deciding he had done enough snooping, he closed the jewelry box and disappeared into the bath.

 

He was surprised at the hot water that flowed out of the spicket in the tub and ran it as hot as he could stand before climbing in and sitting back with a sigh. The last few hours had been crazy, and it was finally catching up with him. 

 

Closing his eyes, he replayed his night over in his mind.  

 

_ He had been in Willoughby, on his way to Gene’s when a storm had blown in. But not just any storm. He had seen this kind of storm once before. Right before the power had come back on, just long enough to blow this city apart.  _

 

_ Picking up his pace, he had felt like he was being herded towards the old farm house. Entering the house, he’d found it empty and barreled through the back door calling out for Charlie and Miles. Miles had answered first, yelling his name when Charlie suddenly appeared, begging him to get back inside the house. The look of terror on her face was what kept him on the path towards the small workshop out back where the entire family seemed to have huddled. He had just taken another step towards them, when his world had gone white, and he’d found himself on his back, the wind knocked out of him. _

 

_ He had been struggling to sit when someone carrying a candle had reached his side, bringing the light closer.  _

 

_ “Rachel?” he had croaked out. “What the hell happened?” _

 

_ “I’m not entirely sure,” she had breathed, taking in his appearance. _

 

_ It wasn’t until the soldier had appeared next to her, asking if everything was okay, that he had begun to suspect, that no, nothing was the slightest bit okay. Grabbing Rachel's arm, he had practically frog-marched her outside to the waiting carriage. Climbing inside, he had begun to demand answers from her, but Rachel, being Rachel, had simply clammed up and refused to speak. She wasn’t afraid to stare at him, though, nibbling on her nails while she mumbled to herself. _

 

_ It was pouring rain when they had reached their destination, and, dragging Rachel out of the carriage with him, he had looked up in di _ _ sbelief at his old home. Feeling like he was either going to pass out or throw up, he had pulled his sword and held it to the woman’s neck. She didn’t panic; instead, she simply held a hand to his forearm and led him slowly forward, promising to take him to Charlie.  _

 

_ But it wasn’t his Charlie.  _

 

_ Oh, he’d certainly believed it at first. Because just like this Charlie, his Charlie wouldn’t have hesitated to put a gun to his head. _

 

He smiled at the thought, but his smile almost instantly turned into a frown as his musings fully shifted to the girl he’d left behind in Willoughby. His Charlie. 

 

As he sat in the tub and thought about her, he realized he was finally willing to admit that he thought of Charlie in that way - as his. His perfectly prickly, fierce woman who kept him on his toes, yet simultaneously made him feel grounded and stable in a world where instability was the norm. 

 

They hadn’t put a label on their relationship or publicly admitted that they were more than just friends or former brothers in arms, but ever since the war had ended, there was no mistaking that they had become much more than that. 

 

Reaching for the soap, he was reminded of all the nights she’d spent in his bed over the past few months.  

 

Except now, with whatever the fuck had happened, sending him back here (he suspected Rachel and the Nano were somehow involved), Bass had no idea if he’d ever see his Charlie again.

 

It honestly hurt too much to think about that, so he pushed the thoughts to the deepest, darkest part of himself and climbed out of the tub. Drying off, he pulled on the night clothes he had found.       

 

Wandering back out to the bedroom, he stoked up the fire, and after spending a hot second debating it, climbed into the bed, sighing in pleasure at the feel. God, he had missed this, he thought, sliding down beneath the covers that had a scent that he recognized as his own mingled with something softer. Lighter. He fell asleep holding the pillow to his nose trying to find the perfect words for it.

* * *

Something woke him early the next morning and he struggled to open his eyes, trying to place the sound. Running his hands over the bed he realized that not only was Charlie missing, this wasn’t his bed. 

 

It took him a few minutes, but he finally managed to get to his feet, promising the bed and himself that he would be right back. Padding to the bathroom, he took a piss, smiling at not having to find a bush, and washed his hands when he was finished.

 

Opening the door, he wasn’t surprised to see a set of guards on each side of the hall. “Where can I find Charlotte?” he asked.

 

“Mrs. Monroe, is right through there, Mr. President,” the guard replied, holding his hand out to the other door being guarded.

 

“Thanks,” Bass muttered uncomfortably, taking the few steps to reach the other door and pushing his way inside. Closing the door softly, he made his way to Charlie, who was sitting in a rocker in front of the fireplace. 

 

“I was hoping to be finished by the time you woke,” she whispered as he came to stand beside her, stunned by the sight of her nursing a baby. 

 

The same baby from the photo in his-their room. 

 

“He just dozed off. Would you take him for a moment?” she asked quietly, pulling her nipple from the child’s mouth. She held him out for Bass to take. 

 

Tearing his eyes away from her exposed breast, he crooked his arm, letting her adjust his hold as needed, gazing down at the child sleeping in his arms.

 

“Who’s this?” he asked, turning his back while she adjusted her clothing.

 

“This is our son, Hayes Canby Monroe,” she introduced, watching as a boyish smile lit up his face.

 

“Hayes Canby?”

 

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to let my son be named Rutherford. Or God forbid, Ulysses,” she smirked, looking between the two of them. “He needs to be burped. Do you know how?”

 

“You should probably do it,” he replied, handing the baby over and tucking his hands in his pockets before taking a step back.  

 

Charlie smiled sadly. “Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll be over as soon as I get him put down and then we can go find my mother and Jeremy and figure out how to get you home.”

 

Bass nodded, his gut twisting as he quietly left the same way he came. Once he was back in his room, he sat on the bed inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, reminding himself that he did not belong here. This is not his home, that is not his wife - despite the fact that she was a carbon copy of the woman he loved, and that most certainly was not his child.  

 

Now if he could only make himself believe it.


	5. Chapter 5

When Charlie returned home with a burlap bag full of game, she was surprised to find Bass sitting quietly at her Grandpa's kitchen table. 

 

"Hey,” she frowned, setting her bow down just inside the front door. "Where is everyone?

 

"Out back in your mother’s workshop. I think I make them uncomfortable."

 

Charlie made a face as she gave him a half-shrug in response. "How are you feeling?"

 

"Okay, I think. Ready to be back home," he told her, trying to keep the panic at being away from his family shoved down.

 

Charlie sighed, wishing there was more she could do.  "Wanna help?” she asked, gesturing towards outside. 

 

"Sure," he agreed, happy to do anything that will get him out of his head. 

 

Following her outside, he found himself at a table out beside the barn where she opened her sack and dumped out three plump hares. Reaching into her boot, she pulled out a sharp knife, tossing it in the air and catching it by the blade before holding it out to him. 

 

"Do you know how to skin?" she asked. 

 

He looked her up and down with appreciation before taking the knife.  "It's been awhile,” he admits, watching her pull a knife from the sheath hanging from the back of her belt. 

 

His eyes flickered between her face and her hands as she cut into the fur-covered flesh, quickly and neatly, before grabbing a rabbit for himself.

 

“I keep the furs to trade at the mercantile for staples," she explained, almost done with her rabbit. “Texas is better off than most, but it can still be hard to make ends meet,” she explains, grabbing the third rabbit. 

 

“What about The Federation and The Republic?” he asked. “I can’t believe Roger would let The Federation fall into disrepair after all the work he’s done.”

 

Charlie slowly reached for the third rabbit, pulling it over in front of her. “Roger?”

 

“President Roger Allenford,” he replied, watching her as she made quick work of the third rabbit. “He’s not President, is he?”

 

Charlie shook her head. “It was President Kelly Foster.”  

 

He watched as she threw the guts and unsalvageable pieces into the compost pile before carrying the rabbits over to the pump, washing them and handing them to him one at a time. “You said was.” 

 

Charlie ignored him. “Take these to the kitchen and put them in the sink. I need to hang these furs up to dry and I'll be there in a minute.”

 

Knowing she wasn’t ready to tell him, Bass didn’t push it and silently carried the rabbit carcasses into the kitchen. He was still cleaning up when she joined him. 

 

“We'll fry two of them up for lunch and then put the third into a stew that the old folks can have for dinner,” she told him, pulling out a cutting board and a butcher knife. 

 

"Old folks?” he questioned with twinkling eyes. 

 

“Mom, Grandpa, Miles,” she answered, looking up from her task.  

 

“What about me?” he asked. 

 

Charlie smirked, looking him up and down. “I know exactly how old you are.” 

 

She watched in fascination as a flush rose up under the neckline of his shirt and traveled to his face. 

 

Turning back to her task, she said, "You and I usually have whatever they’re serving at the bar. After lunch, we’ll head over to your place. Miles will join us at the bar later.”

 

They fell silent as Charlie went about frying the rabbits and making a salad from the vegetables in a nearby basket. 

 

After they ate, she covered the food, setting it in the old converted refrigerator and washed their dishes before sticking her head out the back door to let the others know lunch was waiting and that they'd see Miles later. 

 

Trailing back through the house, she grabbed Bass and they headed into town.  

 

Charlie answered his questions and pointed things out on their way through town as Bass admitted that he hadn’t been outside of Philly in quite some time. And most certainly never to Texas. At least not on this side of the blackout. 

 

When they arrived at a small house a few blocks away from the center of town, Charlie pulled a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door, pushing it open. “Home sweet home,” she said as she waved her hand for him to walk in ahead of her, closing the door behind him. 

 

Charlie watched as he wandered through the place before turning to face her. "You lived here together?" 

 

Charlie’s mouth flapped open and closed a few times, surprised, although she really shouldn’t have been, at his perceptiveness. "No,” she said defensively. 

 

He nodded. “So, friends with benefits?”

 

This time, it was his turn to watch a flush make its way up her chest to her cheeks. 

 

She absently ran a hand through her hair, finding it somewhat surreal to be talking to Bass about Bass. 

 

“Something like that,” she replied, not willing to admit, even to him, that it went way beyond that. “Since we’re not fortunate enough to have electricity, let me show you around,” she changed the subject, her mouth flattening into a straight line. 

 

She started with the bedrooms, showing him where the oil lamps and candles were, making sure that he was capable of striking a flame with flint and steel, before stepping into the hall as he changed from the clothes he had arrived in into a pair of Bass’ utility pants and a vee-necked t-shirt. When he stepped back out into the hall, she took a half step towards him, her hand outstretched, before sucking in a breath and dropping her hand. Silently, she led him to the kitchen. 

 

He was pleasantly surprised by how well stocked it was. There were fresh eggs on the counter along with a bread basket hiding its contents under a soft tea cloth. There was a mason jar full of what looked like butter and another basket full of fruits and vegetables. 

 

Overall, the house was small but homey. A fireplace was in the corner, its mantle covered with candle holders. A few books lay strewn across the coffee table in front of the worn but serviceable couch, and there was a chipped but matching set of dishes in the cupboard. 

 

The bedroom had a full sized bed, covered in fresh sheets and a patchwork quilt. A vase of flowers sat on top of the chest of drawers. Regardless of the words that come out of her mouth, Bass knew this wasn’t just a place that she stayed at sometimes. This place was a home. However, he held his tongue and watched as she gathered the dirty laundry sitting next to the back door. If she was anything like his Charlotte, she would talk once she had her emotions in check and had sorted through them like a deck of well worn cards. 

 

There was a cistern on the roof that was used for showering, dishwashing, etc., but there was still an outhouse set in a corner of the back yard and a pump for fresh drinking water. Setting the laundry down on the patio, she set him to fetching buckets of water to fill the two tubs on the back patio while she started a fire underneath the tub that sat on a metal rack above a fire pit. 

 

They spent the next few hours doing laundry, Bass offering to rinse and hang things on the line as she worked on what appears to be a particularly stubborn stain on a light colored bed sheet. He wasn’t not sure if she was flushed from the heat of the fire or embarrassed that he’d seen the bloody smears, and he was pretty sure that wasn’t sweat she kept brushing off her cheeks.  

 

He had a new appreciation for the maids in his home by the time they were finished and had cleaned up, using the dirty water to water the small garden next to the outhouse. 

 

“Nothing goes to waste,” she told him, leaning the now empty tubs against the house. 

 

“Do you care if I clean up?” she asked, pouring them each a cup of cool water from the pitcher that she had just filled from the pump.

 

“No, go ahead,” he replied, watching as she walked away. 

 

He wanted to call her back, to pull her into his arms and offer her comfort. After all, he understood more than anyone what she was going through right now. But he didn’t think she would welcome it.

 

There was an awkward meeting in the bedroom as he sat on the bed, unlacing his boots, and she came out of the bathroom, hair dripping, with nothing but a towel wrapped around her. 

 

“My-my clothes,” she stammered, pointing to the chest of drawers. 

 

He nodded and set the boots aside. “I saw them earlier. I’ll just go…” he said, pointing towards the bathroom. Dragging a hand through his hair, he brushed past her, closing the door softly behind him.

 

When he finally emerged, the house was quiet, so he took his time drying off and dressing, hanging the wet towel over the bathroom door. 

 

He found her in the living room, folding the laundry that she’d taken off the line while he was showering. “Let me just finish and we’ll go. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry.” 

 

Bass chuckled. “Starving actually. It’s been awhile since I’ve done anything this strenuous.”

 

Charlie raised a brow as she folded a pair of his boxers. “Aww, did the big, bad President have to wash his own underwear for a change?”

 

Bass rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Let’s just say: I have a renewed appreciation for manual labor.”

 

Charlie shook her head, wondering if this Bass was anything like her Bass had been in the early years of The Republic. She could see him in this Bass, but there was no mistaking that they were two different people. 

 

“How did you and Charlie meet?” she suddenly asked.

 

He was taken aback by the question, but he couldn’t help but smile. “I met Charlotte the day she was born,” he said, and Charlie couldn’t help but smile at the expression on his face. That and the fact that some things seemed destined to remain the same.

 

“So you married a woman whose diapers you changed?” she teased.

 

Bass chuckled. “Please don’t remind me. Jeremy constantly gives me shit about it.” 

 

“You’re telling me it’s not the least bit weird?”

 

“Miles and I were in the service when she was little. We’d barely been home a year when the power went out. Then it was trying to survive and finding ourselves running a new nation. She was always there, always someone I felt responsible for, but once we were settled, she was going to school and busy with her own life as most teenagers are. It wasn’t until after Miles’ death and I rescued her that we became close.”

 

Charlie’s face fell. “Miles died?” 

 

“Yes. He was killed in Baltimore,” Bass said slowly, watching as she took a deep breath. 

 

“The Battle of Baltimore,” she breathed, looking up at him. 

 

Bass licked his lips. “Yes. Charlotte was taken hostage in retaliation for my actions there.”

 

Charlie swallowed thickly. “And Miles was her…”

 

“Father.”

 

Placing a pair of worn cotton panties on top of the clean folded clothes, Charlie set the basket on the floor at the end of the couch. “I’m ready for a drink, how about you?”


	6. Chapter 6

“What’s it like, where you’re from?” Charlie asked as they made their way down the hall.

 

“Different than this,” Bass replied.

 

“You said The Republic no longer existed.”

 

“No, it doesn’t. In my quest for power, I let an enemy into my house and set in motion a series of events that we’re just now recovering from.”

 

“So, there’s no power in your world?” Charlie asked.

 

“No, and I doubt if there ever will be. But I think I might be okay with that when simple overhead lighting is threatening to overwhelm me,” he replied with a small smile as he looked up at the light they were passing beneath. “I can’t even imagine what it would do to the younger generation,” he said, his voice trailing off as he remembered his Charlie’s description of the power in the tower. How overwhelmed she had been at the sights and the sounds. How frightened she had been. He never wanted her to go through that again.

 

Charlie glanced over at him as he fell silent. “Electricity is a commodity here. People pay us for the ability and in return we keep them safe. Feed them. Provide them with a stable society. But then every country has the ability to survive in some capacity or another. Georgia has tapped into steam power. California relies on creating power from the ocean, Texas from the wind.”

 

A melancholy smile took over Bass’ face as she spoke. He remembered when he and Miles were so young and idealistic. Before it all slipped through their fingers.

 

As they entered the dining room, Bass came face to face with three very familiar faces. “Rachel, Jeremy,” he said before looking at the man directly across from him with a particularly delighted smile. “Stay Puft.”

 

Aaron’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “Stay Puft? From the Ghostbusters movie?”

 

“Think of it as a term of endearment,” Bass answered with an outlandish wink, taking the seat next to Charlie, who turned to him.

 

“Be nice,” she scolded.

 

“Just tell me two things,” Bass asked, leaning forward towards the man. “Are you a zombie, and can you set things on fire with your mind?”

 

Aaron stared at the lunatic across from him before pushing his glasses up his nose. “Why do I get the feeling you’re serious?’

 

Bass shrugged and picked up a fork, turning to his breakfast as Rachel and Aaron turned to discussing things that he knew had to do with the Nano but didn’t understand.

 

Charlie finally noticed him watching her mother. “Bass? Are you and my mother involved?” she asked, looking between the two.

 

“No,” Bass answered, shaking his head. “Well, once, but it was a mistake,” he clarified with a grimace. “It’s just odd to be having breakfast with her, without being on the receiving end of a glare or nasty comment. I guess I just never realized how much I missed our friendship.”

 

Rachel smiled sweetly. “I can’t imagine us not being friends, Bass. You were the best man at my wedding, and even after Miles--, well, it didn’t matter. We were still family.”

 

“And Miles was?” Bass inquired, looking at Charlie.

 

“Her husband. My father.”

 

“And he’s dead?” he asked, looking around the table.

 

“Yes,” Jeremy replied. “Killed in an ambush in Baltimore. You razed the entire city that night.”

 

“The group that kidnapped me afterwards dubbed you ‘The Butcher of Baltimore’,” Charlie added.

 

“Huh,” Bass scoffed. “That’s a new one.”

 

“Where do you live?” Jeremy asked looking him over.

 

“In Texas. With Miles.”

 

Jeremy snorted. “Something’s are just meant to be. Like peanut butter and jelly.”

 

“You’re all there actually. Well, everyone except you,” he told the man.

 

“Bass?” Rachel asked. “Can you tell us what happened before you woke up in the power plant.”

 

Bass pushed his empty plate away. “I had been summoned to the Porter house. Miles, Rachel and Aaron were finally going to let Charlotte and I in on what they had been doing. They were always out in that shed, experimenting. The only thing we knew for sure was that it had to do with the Nano.”

 

At that, Aaron’s head snapped up. “You know about the Nano?”

 

“Yeah.” Bass replied with no other explanation, before turning to Jeremy. “We should talk later.”

 

Jeremy nodded, pushing to his feet. “Tonight, after dinner. I’ll have my schedule cleared. In the meantime, unless you plan on magically transforming into the President, I’ll have to ask you to stay inside. We don’t need to draw any attention.”

 

Bass nodded. “of Course.”

 

Once Jeremy had left, Rachel and Aaron questioned him, Aaron pulling out a notebook to take notes. The more he talked, the more excited they got.

 

“Layman’s terms,” Bass finally demanded.

 

“The conditions that you’re describing are similar to what happened here with our experiment,” Rachel answered, taking the pencil from Aaron and scratching down a few notes of her own. “We’ve been trying to determine if there’s a way to go back in time to prevent the blackout from happening.”

 

Bass huffed, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “Of course she was. Rachel would do anything to keep me away from Charlotte.”

 

“Aaron has been able to verify, that, as I suspected, we didn’t reach another time, but another timeline,” Rachel continued.

 

Looking over at Charlie, Bass exhaled loudly. “Is there a way to get me back or not?”

 

At that, Rachel and Aaron looked at each other and then back to Bass. “We don’t know. However, _if_ they were working on the same thing and _if_ they attempt to reverse the process like we’re going to, then, maybe.

 

“Mother,” Charlie growled. “What did I tell you last night?”

 

Rachel frowned. “We’re doing our best, Charlie.”

 

Pushing to her feet, Charlie tossed her napkin on the table. “I don’t expect you to do your best, I expect you to succeed. Bass, I’ll take you back to our room and then I have some things to do here in the house.”

 

Getting to his feet, Bass watched her walk out into the hall before looking at Aaron and Rachel. “I hope that for her sake, you’ll try.”  

* * *

 

He asked for pencil and paper and sat about writing down everything he could think of concerning the Patriots, going so far as to draw the triangle eye that he’d come to associate with them. The least he could do was prepare them for every contingency.

 

By the time Charlie knocked at the door, he was exhausted. He watched as a few maids trailed in behind her and laid dinner for two out on the table he had eaten at last night. ”I thought we’d eat dinner in here, and then I’ll take you to Jeremy,” she explained, taking a seat.

 

Joining her, they ate in silence for a a few minutes before Charlie set down her fork and took a sip of wine. “What’s she like?”

 

Looking up from his meal in surprise, Bass laid his fork down as he picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth. “I suspect she was much like you when she was younger. However, by the time I met her, she had been through more than most people go through in a lifetime, and it went downhill from there. She is the strongest, bravest, most loyal, stubborn person I’ve ever met in my life. She’s tried to kill me more times than I can count, but I’d probably be dead tenfold if it wasn’t for her.”

 

Charlie was both amused and horrified as she listened to him describe her alternate self. “She tried to kill you? More than once?”

 

Bass nodded, taking a sip of his own drink. “Charlotte wanted me dead for a very long time, and I can’t say as I blame her.”

 

“But yet you love her,” she observed with a tilt of her head that was so much like his Charlie, it made his heart hurt.

 

Bass shrugged, not sure if he was comfortable talking about Charlie with Charlie. “Lets just say she’s very special to me.”

 

Once their meal was finished, Bass gathered his papers and followed Charlie to Jeremy’s office.

* * *

 

Jeremy poured Bass a drink, and they sat in their respective chairs as Bass started his story on the day a man drove a car to his front door.

 

Hours had passed by the time he was done, and Jeremy was rubbing his temples at the story this man was telling him. He realized that Bass thought this was important, but the only thing Jeremy had taken away was that the man sitting across from him was dangerous. More dangerous than perhaps anyone he’d ever met.  

 

He pushed to his feet and called for the guards, before looking back at Bass. “Please understand. This isn’t personal. But, Charlie and Hayes are my responsibility while our Bass is gone, and I cannot justify keeping you in this house with them.”

 

Bass held out his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Jeremy. I’m the one that should be apologizing to you. All you ever tried to do was be my friend, and I had you killed for it. I hope that the President appreciates what a friend he has in you.”

 

Jeremy shook his hand in return. “Thank you. Guards, please have the President taken to the power plant and held in custody there until further notice.”

 

As the guards reached his side, grabbing hold of his arms, Bass made one last request. “Please tell Charlie that I have no desire to see her and would appreciate it if she stays away. It’ll only make it harder on everyone if she doesn’t.”

 

Jeremy nodded, gesturing to the guards, who escorted Bass out of the building.

 

Sitting back down at his desk, Jeremy flipped through Bass’ notes one more time.

* * *

 

He was allowed a few books while he languished in his presidential cell, eating every bite of every meal that was brought to him and catching up on his sleep.

 

When he was awake, he thought that he probably could have done it. Could have played the part and become a President, husband, and father, and maybe this time, he wouldn’t have gone crazy. Maybe this time, he would have succeeded.

 

But then he would dream, and he would dream of Charlotte more often than not. Dreamt of her hands interlaced with his as she rode his cock, her breasts brushing against his chest as she whispered into his ear that he sucked at his job. And when he surged up into her, spilling himself into her depths, he knew that she was right.

 

However, when he woke up to a racing heart and a mess in his boxers, he knew that while he might suck at being a President, he was  very, very good at loving her, and maybe one day they could achieve the other.

 

It was mid-afternoon when his cell grew dark and he was drawn towards the window as he heard booted feet coming down the hall.

 

He saw the same green glow in the sky as he did the day this all started and smiled, hoping it would all be over soon.

 

He heard keys at the door and turned to see Charlie standing there, her son in her arms.  She was beautiful, he thought, looking like an avenging Madonna. “Charlie, you shouldn’t be here. You or your son might be hurt.”

 

She shook her head, brushing a lone tear off her cheek. “I can’t just sit around at home waiting to hear if he’s come back to me.”

 

Making his way to her side, Bass smiled at the boy in her arms, running a calloused hand over his head, before grasping his mother's shoulder.

 

“I hope that he does. I hope that he comes back to you and you all live long, happy lives,” he said, leaning forward to press a kiss against her forehead. “But, please, wait in the hall, just in case.”

 

“Charlie,” Jeremy said from just behind her. “Please do as he asks. He only wants what's best for you and the boy.”

 

Nodding, Charlie took Bass hand in hers giving it a squeeze. “I have something for you,” she said, pulling a letter out of her pocket. “Please, give this to your Charlotte for me.”

 

“What is it?” he asked, accepting it and his weapons belt that Jeremy handed to him. Tucking the letter into his back pocket, he strapped on his belt.

 

Charlie shrugged. “Simply a letter from one Charlotte to another. But let me tell you now,” she said with a waggle of her finger.  “It carries my personal seal and I will cut off all my favorite bits and pieces if I find out you’ve peaked.”

 

Bass snorted as Jeremy laid a hand on her shoulder, and she stepped away as Bass moved further into his cell.

 

Turning back toward the window, he could hear the wind as it howled through the building, having made its way inside like a living thing. Just then, lightning began to strike. He was just about to turn and tell Charlie to move further way when his cell lit up, and he was blindly thrown to the floor.

 

When his vision cleared, Bass picked himself up off the ground and looked around with a smile.

 

Right in front of him was the Porter house.

 

Looking to the sky, he sighed, giving a silent thanks.  


	7. Chapter 7

Leading Bass to the bar, Charlie pointed to a booth, telling him she would join him in a moment. She watched him walk away before making her way to the bar to order their dinner and a bottle, laying a diamond on counter.

 

Marcos, the bar’s owner, nodded and smiled, whistling loud enough to be heard in the back as Charlie turned towards the booth she’d sent Bass to. It had been odd to watch him make his way around town with a gun strapped to his thigh instead of the double sheathed swords she was used to.

 

Sliding in across from him, Charlie smiled awkwardly, looking out the window as she searched for something to say. Those last few minutes at the house, it had finally sunk in that this wasn’t her Bass; that this man would never be her Bass. He was someone else’s Bass. He belonged to the version of herself that was softer, gentler and hadn’t been made to do the things she had.

 

Her Bass…well, it really didn’t matter what her Bass was. Not if there was a chance she’d never get him back. This Bass was nice enough, but he hadn’t been broken and pieced back together with blood.

 

“Do you only have the one child?” she finally asked as Marcos’ wife carried out a tray laden with venison stew and bread.

 

“Living, yes,” he replied after thanking the woman.

 

Charlie swallowed thickly. “Shelly?”

 

Bass tilted his head, a frown curving his mouth. “No. My son, Connor. He died shortly after the blackout with his mother.”

 

Charlie picked up her spoon. “Emma.”

 

“Yes,” Bass nodded, his frown still firmly in place. “Who’s Shelly? Both you and Miles have asked about her.”

 

Charlie shoved a spoonful of stew in her mouth in an effort to give herself time to formulate an answer. As she chewed, she decided it was best to keep the answer simple and truthful.  “She was someone very important to our Bass.”

 

“More important than you?”

 

She was saved from answering by Miles, who slid in next to her with an extra glass.

 

“All settled in?” he asked Bass as he opened the bottle on the table and poured them all a drink.

 

Bass nodded. “Even got a lesson in laundry.”

 

“That was harsh,” Miles muttered, pouring a little extra into his glass as he shot Charlie a look.

 

Charlie looked down her nose at both. “Had to be done and neither of you are too good not to be doing your own laundry.”

 

Miles smirked as he elbowed her side. 

 

“So, Charlie is your...?” Bass asked, watching them tussle.

 

“Bass,” Charlie warned, her eyes begging him to leave it alone **.**

 

“Niece. Why? How do you think we’re related?” Miles asked.

 

“You’re her dad.”

 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Charlie and Miles turned their attention to their drinks and refused to look at each other.

 

Bass watched them, sipping his drink, thinking that somethings were simply meant to be regardless of time or space. “What happened to your dad?” he asked Charlie, watching as anger flashed in her eyes.

 

“He was killed by one of your men,” she answered with almost no inflection to her voice before she downed the rest of her drink.

 

Bass nodded slowly, refilling her glass. “Is that why Rachel hates me?”

 

Charlie turned to Miles meeting his eyes, both of them thinking the same thing: how do you explain to a man how much he’s both hated and loved by members of the same family?

 

Charlie took a sip of her freshly refilled glass before answering. “You and Miles separated my family and held my mother captive. You longer than Miles, but he was the one that tortured her before turning her over to you and Strassuer.”

 

“Charlie,” Miles said softly. They’d never talked about it. He’d never been able to bring himself to tell her, no matter how many times she’d asked. And he knew Rachel would never mention it. To admit his sins out loud would mean forgiving Bass of his, and as much as he loved Rachel, he knew she simply wasn’t capable of that kind of forgiveness when it came to Bass. Not like the woman sitting next to him, who even now was grasping Miles’ hand in hers.

 

Charlie shrugged. “Bass and I talk. A lot,” she explained with a watery voice. “I forgave you a long time ago, Miles. Just like I did Bass.”

 

Leaning forward, Miles pressed a kiss against her forehead softly before turning back to Bass, who was looking at them with something akin to horror on his face. “I don’t understand.”

 

Holding a hand up, Miles waved to Marcos for another bottle as he filled their glasses once again.

* * *

 

By the time they were finished, Bass felt like he’d been put through the wringer. His mind simply couldn’t accept all the things he’d done. Even if  _ he _ hadn’t done them, personally, what did it really matter? When people here looked at him and all they saw was a monster, it didn’t really feel like it, he decided.

 

When he stood to leave, a bit unsteady on his feet, Charlie elbowed Miles out of the way. “I’ll go with,” she said.

 

“No!” Bass said more harshly than he intended. “Why don’t you go home,” he added - more gently this time. “I think I need some time to myself.” 

 

“Oh. Okay, sure,” Charlie replied. “I’ll check on you tomorrow?”

 

He didn’t reply. Simply turned away and walked out of the bar. 

 

“Come’on,” Miles suggested, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Lets go sleep this booze off.” 

 

Charlie nodded, letting herself be pulled out of the bar, but not before reaching out to grab the half-full bottle on the table.

* * *

 

Miles didn’t think anything of it the next day when he didn’t see either Bass or Charlie as he attempted to do his job and Bass’. So, the day after, when he saw her pass by on the sidewalk, he called her name.

 

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked coming into the sheriff's office. 

 

“How’s Bass?”

 

“I don’t know,” she replied, scuffing the toe of her boot on the floor. 

 

Miles narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

 

“I mean I don’t know!” she nearly shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. “He said he wanted to be by himself, so I’m trying to respect his wishes,” she muttered with a mulish look on her face. 

 

“Well, fuck,” Miles spat out, heading towards the door. “Come on, let’s go!”

 

“Miles! What’s wrong?” she demanded, following after him. 

 

“Charlie, the one thing I know for sure about Bass is that depression is hardwired into his DNA.”

 

Charlie’s eyes got round at the vague mention of his past suicide attempts. “You don’t think...” she trailed off, shaking her head.

 

“Only one way to find out,” he gritted out, taking off down the sidewalk.

 

They were jogging by the time they reached his house. 

 

Miles banged on the door. “Open up, Dickhead!” he shouted.”Don’t you have a key?” he asked, looking at the girl by his side. 

 

Jutting her chin out, Charlie nodded, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a key attached to a blue ribbon. Miles was curious what the story was behind that, but not curious enough to ask. Not right now, anyway. Not while a version of a man he’d known his entire life was potentially lying dead in a pool of his own blood. 

 

Pushing the door open, Charlie took a step back. Miles flashed her a frown as he stepped inside the house and looked around. He hated to admit it, but this was the first time he’d been here. He glanced around and could see touches of Charlie everywhere. 

 

He moved slowly down the hallway, ducking his head into the empty bathroom and spare bedroom before entering the bigger of the two bedrooms. 

 

That was where he found Bass: sprawled across the bed, smelling like a brewery. Holding a hand to Bass’ neck, Miles bent over, hands on knees as he breathed a sigh of relief. 

 

It wasn’t long before he heard a plaintive, “Miles?” coming from down the hall. 

 

“It’s okay, Charlie, come on back.”

 

Charlie walked into the room, putting a hand to her nose as her eyes raked over the passed out man. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen that before,” she commented, walking over to open a window. “I’ll go get some fresh water.”

 

Miles nodded, looking back towards Bass. Walking around the bed, he unlaced Bass’ boots, setting them next to the bed, before wrestling him out of his holster and his vomit-covered shirts, then getting him situated on the bed. 

 

Charlie returned with a bowl full of lukewarm water, setting it on the bedside table closest to him. Dipping a cloth into the bowl, she wrung it out before running it over his sweat drenched brow, gasping when his blood-shot, red-ringed eyes flew open. 

 

Grabbing one of her wrists, he pushed her away with a growl. “Stay away from me.”

 

“Why don’t you go see how your Mom and Aaron are coming along on his return trip?” Miles suggested, the words reminding her that this was not their Bass.

 

Charlie exhaled noisily and nodded, then turned on her heel and left. 

 

“God, you’re a Bastard,” Miles hissed when he heard the front door slam shut.

 

“I didn’t ask for her to take care of me,” Bass spat back, looking up at the man wearing his best friend’s face.

 

“I know,” Miles replied, “but Charlie has this weird little kink. If she sees someone in trouble, she tries to help. So, be a dick to me all you want, but I will not let you tear that girl down and ruin every good memory she has of you.”

* * *

 

When Miles arrived home that night, he pulled Aaron aside, away from Rachel.

 

“What?” Aaron asked as he stood behind the barn, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as Miles paced in front of him. 

 

“I really need you to get our Bass back,” he finally said, coming to a stop in front to the younger man. 

 

“Yeah, okay,” Aaron replied, looking at him strangely. “What are you not telling me?” 

 

Miles looked around the corner, making sure no one else was listening. “It’s Charlie. If you don’t get Bass back, I think she’ll leave.” 

 

Aaron scoffed. “You don’t really think that, do you? I thought they were getting along.” 

 

Miles frowned. “Did you like Nano Priscilla?” 

 

“Yeah, okay, I see your point. But why not tell Rachel?”

 

Miles looked at the shorter man blandly.

 

“God, I hate walking,” Aaron grumbled. “The chafing’s a bitch.” 

 

“Then get to work,” Miles hissed before stalking towards the house. 

 

God, he needed a drink.

* * *

 

Two days later, Aaron came bursting inside as Charlie and Miles sat in the living room after dinner, sharing a bottle.

 

“We did it!” he wheezed, propping himself up in the entryway so he wouldn’t fall down. “Or, at least we think we did it. We need Monroe here, now.”

 

Looking over at Charlie, who was trying desperately not to fall apart, Miles pushed to his feet. “I’ll go. We’ll be back in a flash.”

 

He was halfway to town when he ran into Bass. “I was just coming to get you.”

 

“I know,” he replied, pointing to the sky, which had taken on a greenish tinge. “Do you think it’ll work?” 

 

“It’s got to,” Miles said, taking off at a jog, Bass on his heels.

* * *

 

When they arrived at the house, they made their way around back. The wind was picking up, blowing Charlie’s hair all around her face from where she stood in the middle of yard.

 

Miles nods in Bass’ direction, clasping him on the shoulder. “Good luck!” he shouted over the howling wind before disappearing into the workshop. 

 

Charlie met Bass’ eyes, giving him a closed lip smile, getting as close to him as she possibly dared. “I hope you make it back to her,” she shouted.

 

Reaching out, Bass cupped her face, stroking his thumb across her cheek, before leaning down to press his lips in the spot his thumb had just vacated. 

 

“Me too,” he shouted near her ear, knowing that she’d heard him when she nodded and turned away, jogging across the yard to join her Uncle. 

 

Miles pulled her in front of him, resting his hands on her shoulders, listening to Aaron and Rachel shout behind them as Bass looked up to the sky. 

 

This time when the lightning struck, they were both thrown to the ground, Miles’ arm the only thing that kept Charlie’s head from cracking against the ground. 

 

As everyone got to their feet and dusted themselves off, Charlie stepped out of the workshop, her eyes searching for Bass. When she didn’t see him, she fell tiredly to her knees, sinking into the grass as Miles crouched down beside her and pulled her head to his chest. They were still in that position when a noise from the corner of the house drew Miles’ attention. 

 

“Charlie, look,” Miles prompted, nudging at her shoulder. 

 

“Why? There’s nothing there,” she sighed. 

 

“Just look,” Miles insisted, finally getting her to do as he said, just in time for her to see the man she was just mourning the loss of walking toward them. 

 

Coming to a stop in front of them, Bass gave them a lopsided grin. “Hey honey. I’m home.”

 

Miles snorted. “How’s Jeremy?” 

 

Bass gave a jaunty salute. “Fresh as a Spring Day in Georgia.”

 

“Your dickhead’s back,” Miles told Charlie, pulling them both to their feet with a scoff before walking away. 

 

Looking Charlie over, Bass got angrier by the second. “What did he do to you?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer, hooking his finger in her belt loop, yanking her towards him so they were chest to chest. “I swear to god if he touched a hair on your head, I’ll make Rachel send me back so I can kick his ass.” 

 

Letting out a shaky breath, Charlie shook her head, forcing herself not to lean into him as she met his eyes. “He didn't do anything to me.” 

 

“Is that so?” he replied, eyes narrowing as he grasped her branded wrist in his hand. “Then come with me.” 

 

“I will never get used to that,” Aaron said, watching them walk away. 

 

“Yeah, neither will I,” Miles replied as they shared a grin before turning away to help Rachel.

* * *

When they reached his home, Bass held out his hand. 

 

Charlie looked between him and the door before reaching into her pocket and digging out the key attached to the blue ribbon.

 

When she placed it in his hand, he toyed with the ribbon for a moment, watching her.

 

Unlocking the door, he grabbed her hand, pulling her in behind him. 

 

As soon as the door slammed shut, Charlie found herself pinned up against it, her arms over her head as Bass tangled his fingers with her own.

 

“Do you remember when I gave you that key?” he asked, trailing his nose along her jaw.

 

“Yes,” she whimpered as he tugged at her lobe with his teeth, the sensation shooting straight down her spine to her core.  “You told me you put it on a blue ribbon so I’d always remember the color of your eyes.”

 

“I lied,” he whispered, dragging his lips down the column of her throat. “I bought the ribbon because it reminded me of yours.”

 

“You’re such an asshole,” she accused, breath hitching as he lifted his head.  

 

He pulled her right arm down the wall so he could lave her brand with his tongue, causing her belly to quiver with need.

 

“Did you miss me?” he asked, kissing his way down her arm.

 

“No,” she murmured, turning her head away from him.

 

Watching her, Bass let go of her hands so that he could move his own to her waist, catching the hem of her shirt before slowly dragging it up her body till she was forced to lift her arms over her head. 

 

“Really? ‘Cause I missed you,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of each breast. “Want me to show you how much?”

 

“Yes,” she answered, swallowing thickly as he reached around to unclasp her bra, pulling it down her arms. Tossing it aside, he tugged off his own shirt and added it to the pile. Then he leaned in to kiss her, one hand at her lower back, the other cupping her cheek as her hands clawed at his back, trying to draw him closer. She moaned at the feel of his skin against hers. 

 

Grasping the back of her thighs, Bass lifted her up till her legs were around his waist, never taking his lips from her body as he walked them down the hall. 

 

Reaching their bedroom, he pressed a knee against the mattress, and gently laid Charlie down. He watched her as he pulled off her boots and socks before reaching for the button on her pants. 

 

She lifted her hips, and he simultaneously pulled her pants and panties down her legs, tossing them behind him on the floor. She scrambled up the bed as he stripped himself out of the rest of his clothing, then stalked after her.   Parting her legs so he could get closer to her, he pressed a kiss into the valley between her breasts. Then he brought his mouth to each pointed peak, suckling until she cried out, her chest arching toward him.

 

Continuing his journey southward, he drew her legs up, spreading them further apart as he took a slow swipe up her slit with his tongue, causing her to buck underneath him. They watched each other through lust darkened eyes as he made love to her with his mouth, Charlie’s hands tangling in his curls as she lost herself in a tidal wave of sensation.

 

Wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand, Bass made his way back up her body, bringing his mouth to hers, as she cupped his face with her hands.

 

He grasped her thighs and pulled her further down on the bed, his cock hard and heavy against her thigh, trailing pre-cum against her skin.

 

“I missed you,” she finally breathed out, a tear escaping from the corner of her eye. “I missed you so much.”

 

Bass watched in utter fascination as the tear disappeared into her hair before he locked his eyes onto her’s once more. Pressing his forehead against hers while he slid a hand under her hip to draw her closer, he slowly entered her body.

* * *

 

“Where’s our bottle?” Bass asked, looking on the floor for the bottle he kept stashed beside the bed. 

 

“Here,” Charlie replied, handing it over from its spot on her bedside table.

 

“Do I wanna know?” he asked, sloshing around the few swallows that were left.

 

“No,” she answered, providing no other explanation. “Did you like being back there?” she asked, toying with the edge of the quilt that they were lying on. 

 

“That’s a loaded question,” he replied, passing the bottle over. “Did I appreciate seeing my dead friend and finally getting the opportunity to apologize, even if it wasn’t really my friend? Yes. Was it nice to have a conversation with a woman who I once considered a friend? Definitely. Was it hard to see that Charlie and not want what they have? Absolutely.”

 

Charlie shrugged as he took the bottle back. “That was your home. Your picture perfect family. No one would have blamed you if you decided you wanted to stay.”

 

“Charlie,” he whispered with a shake of his head, wondering what it would take to make this girl understand as he set the bottle aside. 

 

Rolling her under him, he pressed a leg between her thighs and brushed her hair away from her face. “That is not my home, and that watered down version of Charlotte Matheson is not who I want to be with. My home is this tiny two bedroom ranch in the armpit of Texas that I share with a firecracker who has me wrapped around her little finger. Let them do perfect. We’ll do us.”

 

Unable to speak, Charlie teared up as she shook her head in agreement and held him close.  

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Philly**

 

Inside Independence Hall, President Sebastian Monroe picked himself up off the floor of his office. Marching over, he threw open the doors and bellowed his wife's name. “Where is she?” he demanded from a nearby guard. 

 

“Upstairs, with the-the Doctor and Vice-President,” the stunned soldier managed to get out.

 

Flying up the stairs, Bass threw open the door to his bedroom, startling the occupants. 

 

“Bass?” Charlie gasped, bursting into tears as she clamored off the bed, throwing herself into her husband’s arms. 

 

Catching her, Bass held her close, before tipping her head back to look at the gash over her eye. “What happened?”

 

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that your back,” she cried, pulling him down for a kiss as Jeremy coughed discreetly in the background. 

 

Closing his bag, the doctor who was examining Charlie and the baby looked up from where he had been inspecting Hayes and turned towards the boy’s parents. “Hayes appears to be fine, but of course if there are any changes in his behavior, be sure to send for me. Mrs. Monroe has no signs of a concussion. Just keep the cut clean and dry.” 

 

“Thanks, Doc,” Jeremy replied, shaking the man’s hand as he showed him to the door. 

 

“Glad you’re back, Boss,” Jeremy said, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

 

Laying in bed as Charlie nursed their son, Bass ran a finger down her breast and across his son’s cheek.

 

“What was it like?” She asked softly, looking between the two of them.

 

“It was horrible,” Bass answered, watching as his son suckled. “It was like living in the Wild West, only with swords. And the things that he had done? He was a monster, Charlie.”

 

“And what about her?” Charlie asked, reaching out to stroke Bass’ smooth cheek. 

 

Bass tucked a hand behind his head as he settled down on the bed. “She loves him,” he mused looking over at her. “Even though or because of, I’m not sure which. It was the damndest thing.”

 

Charlie shook her head with a smile. “He’s a man who’s lost everything, even himself. But because of her, he wants to be better. It’s not so hard to believe that she loves him. She just needs a little push to let him in.”

 

He looked at her in amusement, then pushed himself up on an elbow to look her in the eye. “What did you do?” 

 

“Just… passed along a few words of wisdom from one Charlotte to another. You can’t blame me for wanting everyone to be as happy as us,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him, their son tucked safely between them. 

  
  
  


**Willoughby**

 

The next time Charlie woke up, she was hungry. Propping herself up on an elbow, she reached over and stroked a hand down Bass’ bare arm before pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Sliding out of bed, she grabbed one of his clean shirts from the pile of laundry she did just days ago, then gathered up their dirty clothes as she went. She’d just picked up Bass’ jeans when a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Picking it up, she realized it was addressed to her. 

 

Dropping their dirty clothes in the wooden hamper in the bathroom, Charlie made her way into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table as she turned the letter over, tracing her hand over the wax seal. 

 

Carefully breaking the seal, she opened the letter and began to read. 

 

_ Dear Charlotte, _

_ If what Sebastian tells me is true, then I’m sure that to you, reading this letter is just as disconcerting as it is for me to be writing it.   _

_ To know that this is what has become of my husband in your timeline is almost more than my heart can bear. The only saving grace is that I know he has you and my beloved father at his side once again. _

_ Though I admit: I am incredibly biased towards him, I have a hard time believing that my husband, the man I love beyond life itself, has lost all that is good and true from within him. Surely, you, of all people, can see the goodness underneath this worn down and battered shell that he wraps around himself as a form of protection.  _

_ While the world around us proves to be incredibly cruel at times, Bass has never lost sight of his compassion and morality, and I can only imagine how much grief the events your timeline have caused him.   _

_ If he makes it home to you and you are reading this letter, I beg of you to let him in. Hold him close and embrace the life that you can have together with joy. Take the comfort that Bass can bring you with both hands and never let go.  _

_ But, if it is not to be, and this is the Bass that I am left with (which, I suppose means you may never even get this letter -- though I genuinely hope you do), I vow to protect him and to love him, and to make him as happy as I possibly can in your stead. And I hope you will do the same for my Bass. _

_ I am sealing this letter with my own personal stamp and have threatened to cut off all my favorite parts of his anatomy if he so much as peeks, so, knowing Sebastian as I do, I can assure you that these words remain between you and me only.  _

 

_ Love him with all that you are, and I promise that you shall never be disappointed. _

 

_ Warmest regards, _

 

_ Charlotte Matheson-Monroe _

_ First Lady of the Monroe Republic _

 

She was just folding the letter back up when Bass padded into the kitchen in his birthday suit, his hair sticking up at every angle imaginable. 

 

“There you are,” he murmured against her neck as he bent down, his hands slipping underneath the hem of her shirt to cup her breasts. “I see you found your letter,” he said, pressing soft kisses along her neck.

 

Pushing to her feet, Charlie turned in his arms, pulling his head down for a soft kiss, her tongue lazily licking against his as she relished the feel of his hands on her body. When they finally pulled apart, Bass slid a hand across her cheek and into her hair as their noses nuzzled. 

 

They continued to share soft, punctuated kisses as they used their hands to stroke each other softly, giving Charlie time to work up her courage. 

 

While his face was buried in the crook of her neck and her hands were tangled in his curls, she finally whispered into his ear the words she’d been wanting to say for so long:

 

“I love you.”

 

Lifting his head to look into her eyes, Bass smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead; then a kiss to her nose, and finally to her mouth before he lifted her by the waist and sat her on the very edge of the table. 

 

Pulling her shirt off, he tossed it aside and used the back of his hand to stroke at her jaw, watching as he buried his cock inside her slick pussy, before meeting her eyes once again. 

 

“I love you, too, Charlotte,” he whispered against her lips, eyes heavily lidded as her legs wrapped around his waist.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "I've Wanted You," by First Aid Kit
> 
> Many thanks to Romeo for her mad beta skills. She's my hero :D 
> 
> Leave a little Love? <3


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